The first time he noticed you, you were heaving a sex swing off a rooftop. It clipped the edge, smacked Valentino’s chrome SUV, and sent a cameraman’s lunch flying. Angel wheezed with laughter until his eyes watered. Val’s glare could have stripped paint. Angel tucked the laugh away like contraband and stared. New prop master, he realized. One of Val’s, on paper. Not acting like it.

The clues came dressed as kindness he did not trust. His wrist cuffs stopped biting. Velvet, reinforced, pretty enough to pass inspection. He rubbed his wrists in the mirror and found unmarked skin. The leash turned rhinestone, catching studio lights and matching his liner. Floor pads thickened until even his knees forgave him. He told himself it was budget shuffling, some intern trying to impress Val. Hope was a dangerous hobby down here.

Then he tripped on his way to call time and landed in a jeweled avalanche of pillows. The top one read, in fat felt letters, FOR THE SPIDER ONLY. He looked over and found you at the fog machine, expression bland as paper. That tiny nod you gave him said, Take the win. He did. Quietly. Pulse loud in his throat. If this was sabotage, it was the softest he had ever seen.

After that he watched you like a sinner prays, sideways and pretending it was about something else. You moved through chaos with cable ties and curses, sticking googly eyes on a riding crop and calling it motivational while Valentino prowled past. Angel felt the laugh catch in his chest again, warmer this time. He started engineering disasters, little ones. A strategically loosened clamp. A stool suddenly unworthy of a star. He told the parking lot about the tragic underfluffing of punishment furniture until you showed up with a cushion that matched his eyeliner. It felt like being seen, and it scared him more than Val ever had.

By week six he found you behind the set of Nuns & Huns 4, hands dusty with glitter, jaw tight with work. He leaned in close enough to taste the fog fluid in the air, grin sharp and bright to cover the shake under his ribs. “Keep babying me like this and I’m liable to fall head over heels, sugar, so tell me how careful you plan to be with me tonight?”